Dead Man Breathing.

I think of New Year's Day 2009 and how I felt about the future that day. It was the beginning of 'real' Aussie Summer and I'd been out of the ICU ward since Christmas Eve and believed that the electric-shock treatment might have somehow miraculously cured me ...

... I started driving to the beach each morning for a walk and a swim (three strokes of free-style was about it for me after having gotten so unhealthy), but the future looked so bright I even bought a new pair of shades. I got the old tredley out and rode down the beach for a few mornings even. I thought I was over this blasted mosquito-bite at last.

Too old and frail for heavy-lifting now, I knew I had no hope of getting a job without some sort of academic paperwork (IMHO worth about as much as the paper and ink that printed it, but still...) and was accepted into a double degree with English/teaching majors.

Then two things went wrong.

Bureaucratic bungling, first by the letter of acceptance from the VC of the so called 'academic' institution, which totally confused the welfare agency to the point that they forced me to drop out of the course ...

... and then the bloody RRV came back on Easter Sunday, just to top it all off.

Those things took away something that I can't explain, but I guess it comes back to motivation, both the will to live, as well as the will to have any further association with the mongrels who have perpetuated this pain by thwarting every attempt I've made to get over it.

Now my spirit has gone. There's just a collection of skin and bones sitting here at the keyboard typing away to pass the time, and I think of how much less it would cost in ISP charges if the time was coming to an end.

For the first time in my life now, I don't think that the man I used to be in 2008, even after the disease and the unrequested morphine and the bureaucratic stuffups of times past had been overcome and partly forgiven, is still alive in me anymore.

Now I have the feeling that I am nothing more than a dead man sitting here trying to breathe and type at the same time.

Time for a ciggie on that note. Thanks for letting me get another piece of this anger and hatred and pain off my chest and I have benefitted very much from the good luck in discovering this forum today already. I will talk about something more pleasant later to make up for this diatribe.

Hey Seano. Just going to throw this out there but, have you ever considered writing about your experience and trying to see if you could get it published? You write very well, so fluid it keeps the reader held yet moving along so smoothly as your story unfolds.

Now as for your apology at the end, rubbish! Please dont ever apologize for letting your feelings, thoughts and pain out. That is exactly what SF is all about. A safe place where you are among others that all too well understand your anguish. And by being able to post about it, you not only find support and advice from others but you have the opportunity to let go of things that you shouldnt have to bury so deep within in the first place.

I'm so pleased that you have found this site at a time in your life where it appears you really need the support and friendship of those that understand. I'm just as pleased to met you and offer any words of advice or support I can. You arent dead yet so please keep breathing and typing and sharing with the other memebrs. Both the good and the bad. Maybe we can help you move from dead man breathing to hopeful man breathing!